


Secrets and Desires

by Kiah_Trickster



Series: Hidden Desires [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-01-06 02:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21219035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiah_Trickster/pseuds/Kiah_Trickster
Summary: Set early season 4, Daenerys’ forces have taken Mereen, set around the time she was deciding what to do about going West or remaining in Mereen. But in the chamber she chooses, Daenerys makes an interesting discovery, for in Mereen men and women are allowed to pursue all pleasures; a discovery she cannot banish from her mind. And as Daenerys discovers new methods of coping with the challenges of ruling, she learns the secrets of another. Secrets that could change everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't need to start another story, I shouldn't start another story.... I need to get this down before it bleeds into one of my other stories where it will not fit.  
This chapter is tame, the rest may not be and I don't write a lot of smut so we will see how this goes. Warnings are real and will be in play by the second chapter so if it isn't your thing don't start.

Exploring the great pyramid of Mereen was exciting and satisfying; three of the greatest slaving cities in the East were free now. The Unsullied patrolled the streets, and ahead of her own exploration Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan were sweeping the corridors and corners of the pyramid; sometimes shuffling off the newly freed servants who lurked for a look at her.

Daenerys was a little more indulgent than her sworn shields, Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan looked for a threat in every shadow but if she were to stabilize the city before continuing West they would have to spend a little time here; and she should like to meet some of the people. Especially those that would be attending this place, for where she would be staying was where they worked.

Missandei was at her side and as she climbed yet another flight of stairs, she eyed the two men who stood in the hall, this floor only had one great room, though screens and steps added depth and privacy. There was a beautiful sitting area and balcony, and behind a screen a big wide bed; and another screened corner.

“This will be my chamber.” Daenerys murmured, stepping away from the window that overlooked the harbor to one on the opposite wall near the bed, overlooking the city. The men who had been waiting in the doorway melted away as Missandei joined her at the window; standing at her shoulder. “Pick any chamber you like; we will enjoy the comforts of this place until we sail West.”

Her friend stayed for a time and helped her to settle, Daenerys wandered the chamber as the great clawfoot tub was filled with water. There was a sunken corner, screened in and curiously she peered around the screen, then frowned; trying to discern what she was looking at.

In the center an odd bench was on a raised platform with pullies on either side of it, a small dresser stood in corner. Frowning she eyed the straps at the base on either side of the raised bench, it was polished smooth, even the notch in the center was without a rough edge and on the frame, it was a stand of some sort but she was not sure of its purpose.

“Do you have such desires Mhysa?” She startled as a soft voice spoke and Daenerys glanced back to see the woman who had been overseeing the buckets of water being carried up.

“What desires?” She asked nodding for the woman to approach.

“In Mereen all are acceptable, and there are many different ones to pursue; men and women explore them. Why shouldn’t you?” The woman spoke softly, and rounded the bench, laying her hand on it. “You are a powerful woman, should you not exercise that strength? Enjoy it, to escape the weight of rule, to savor the pleasure of it.”

“And what pleasure is this?” She asked cautiously.

“This one is built for a man, but a woman could stand it too, the frame will hold one in position for any manner of things, either standing or bent at the waist.” The woman spoke easily, moving to the small dresser and opened the first drawer; Daenerys stiffened as she eyed the implements inside it. “There are pleasure houses in the city, I could fetch a man; or a woman if it pleases…”

“No.” She blushed, easing back quickly, she moved to Missandei’s side for her friend to take down her hair.

But her eyes wandered back to that screen many times that evening, and late that night she roamed back into the corner; lighting the sconce. Light flickered in the corner and the screen through an interesting pattern over the walls; she knelt to examine the bindings on the frame.

Her mind raced back to the early days of her marriage to Drogo, she had longed to make his visits in the night stop; to make the pain stop. But she had learned to accept him and in time to find her own pleasure in it; yet she knew at any moment he could flip the game. This would have been an equalizer she knew Drogo would never have agreed to, she had a hard time imagining there were many men who would; especially with the things she found in the drawers.

When she crawled beneath the sheets her dreams teased her, in them a man was stretched in that frame, his powerful body was hers to touch and explore. Tracing her hands over muscled flesh honed from combat, straining towards her each time she pulled back; his pleasure dependent upon her touch.

Daenerys woke as she looked up, wanting to see the man’s face; her body flush and warm. She shifted uneasily at the thought that a man’s bindings aroused her so quickly, the center of her thighs slickening at the notion he had been hers to explore.

She had to force such thoughts from her mind several times that morning as Missandei attended her, trying to dismiss it as curiosity at a notion she had never considered before. But as she stood before the window, listening to the counsel of her advisors, Daenerys had to glance down more than once; trying to stop herself from comparing them to the man in her dreams.

Dario was pleased with his men’s accomplishments, taking something, he had not been instructed to because he thought it would please her. His flirting subdued by Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah’s presence at the table, but there was a cheekiness to his tone. His armor covered much of his body, but he was proud and bold, he might like to tease, and he might even enjoy the idea of the image playing through her mind; but the truth was something else. Dario Naharis was too proud to let a woman conquer him, he would probably prefer to put her into the frame and that was something Daenerys did not want.

It was Ser Jorah who told her the news of Yunkai and Astapor, and as she considered the news it was his counsel she wanted. Ser Jorah always counselled her wisely, and often cautiously, he had a patience she struggled with; in this she did chose to listen to him. Slavers Bay would remain free, and in Mereen she would learn to govern.

But after that the difficult work began and each night her dreams plagued her, becoming more vivid, drawing a stronger response from her body each time. During the day Daenerys listened to supplicants, men who were used to having slaves lining up to petition her court, complaining about their hardships and lost income. Slaves who were struggling to adapt to freedom, and had their old masters breathing in their ears; and Daenerys feared for them.

For each supplicant she heard hundreds more waited, and she could not fix their problems. Dario’s flirting became more obvious and frustrating each day, but her tormented body was tempted. Each night she saw a man in her dreams, and she imagined how she would tempt his body; taunting her own; but she never saw his face.

Perhaps it was not his face that was important, the man in her dreams was not a person but only an image, allowing her to see the things she wanted to try. And as her eyes slid to man standing to her right she wondered if the greater challenge was finding the man who would tolerate the things she imagined; that thought gave her very little rest. Daenerys had made her decision.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature ratings are in effect; this chapter is explicit and some non con.  
Hope you're enjoying this story too.

He saw the tension in the Khaleesi, he saw the weight of ruling on her shoulders as she mounted the steps to the throne each day. Dario saw it too, and the man scarcely bothered to hide his advances, Jorah tried to ignore how that bothered him.

Yet he did enjoy the fact the man seemed to be trying harder with each passing day, meaning the Khaleesi had not yet entertained him. Jorah stayed a pace behind her as they descended the stairs after another afternoon of hearing supplicants. Dario had not bothered to stand at her side today, but he lurked in the halls and fell in step with the Queen as she passed.

“You may go.” She said curtly as they turned towards the stairs, dismissing all of them.

Jorah glanced after her, relieved that at least she would not be alone, she had dismissed the men from her company but Missandei stayed with her and he was reassured that she would be able to relax a little. He headed for his quarters, he was lower in the pyramid along the same hall as Grey Worm and Ser Barristan. The handful of Dothraki who remained were on this floor, as well as the one below; the Unsullied had built a military camp outside the city.

He had a shaded balcony to work from, having spread a map across the table and hung his armor on the hooks by the bed. The Khaleesi had decided to stabilize the region before continuing West and use Mereen as her base. The Second Sons, with Dario seeking to impress her, had seized the Mereenese Navy; so, when the day did come to sail West, they could do so without the task of purchasing such a number of ships.

There was a knock on his door later that evening and he was surprised to see one of the Dothraki men who had journeyed through the Red Waste; the Khaleesi had taken to using the Unsullied for her guards. “The Khaleesi would see you now.”

“I will go to her.” Jorah agreed, disappointed that she had not decided to take some rest this evening.

The man nodded, but Jorah frowned as he stepped in to wait. Jorah shifted uneasily but moved to strap on his sword. He knew the man, not well but they’d travelled with that small group for months in the Red Waste; Norvo knew he served the Khaleesi yet waited. But as he walked the corridors the horse lord shadowed him closely and when he knocked it was a second horse lord that opened it; the Unsullied were not on duty.

“Khaleesi?” He murmured, she stood with another woman, Rasa, one of they Mereenese who oversaw the running of the Great Pyramid.

“Ser Jorah, you once swore to serve me in every matter. Today I must test that oath.” The Khaleesi spoke quietly, and there was something in her voice that made him uneasy; he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

Jorah nodded but he felt something in his gut tighten, and his growing sense of unease tightened as she looked him over.

“If you wish to leave, do so now; otherwise you will obey all of my commands.” There was a dangerous tone in her voice, but he did not move; the whole of the situation was odd. And after a beat she gave an order that made his heart jump. “Take him.”

“Khaleesi?” He questioned and tried to jerk free of the two men who had grabbed him quickly; as though they had been waiting for the order. “Khaleesi! What have you been told? What has happened?”

“Be still, Ser Jorah.” His queen murmured, but she watched as he struggled; and though he knew better he tried to get free of the two men holding him.

“Khaleesi, please! Let me speak to you, I swore to you; I will never betray you again...” His protest was cut short, the Queen had turned away, stepping behind a screen as Rasa stepped forward and forced a piece of leather into his mouth.

He snarled against the strap but could not make himself heard around it, his heart pounding as he was dragged forward; he did not know what she intended. He did not know what she had been told, but this way he did not even have a chance to explain.

….

She had asked Norvo and Ghasra to be here, the Dothraki might not necessarily believe what she told them but then they had a freer view of sex and the idea that had taken shape as she decided to explore this was not one she wanted made public. But then she did not want them to know exactly what she would do to Jorah either.

And as the men positioned Jorah in the frame, bending him forward over the bench fully clothed, Rasa quickly restrained his wrists and ankles. He fought them some, but Rasa quickly lifted the bench and stretched him over it; his legs and arms extended. Ser Jorah fought to look up at her, his eyes begged for answers and he did not understand what was happening.

She liked the idea of him uneasy, knowing he was not in control; learning to submit to her. But she did not intend to humiliate him and while he’d adopted some Dothraki ways she dismissed the men as soon as he was restrained; Daenerys knew she and Rasa could never have controlled him on their own.

He was bent forward over the bench; his arms strapped to a bar on the far side; his torso stretched out. She eyed him as Rasa quickly unstrapped his sword and then his kilt, laying both to the side; the man growled against the gag as she began to loosen his breeches.

“Ser Jorah, stand.” She ordered as the woman slid them down his legs and then loosened the strap around his ankles one at a time, sliding off the breeches and boot. Blue eyes focused on her as the woman bent to loosen the laces on his shirt and then the pin at his throat; doing the same with each wrist until he was naked.

“Mhysa, this lever will move the upper frame; ensure he is properly seated and strapped before you do so.” Rasa pulled her gaze from his to show her the lever and then stepped close to Ser Jorah’s side; reaching beneath him. “This height is good for him, no higher; it may not seem a tight fit now, but it will be when he responds.”

His eyes flashed with shock and anger, Daenerys felt her skin flush just a little as she realized how casually Rasa had taken hold of his balls and shifted him so that he was seated in the bench itself. Doing so the woman cast a quick glance over him, smiled at her and then slid away as they had agreed.

Daenerys was silent a moment, Ser Jorah could not twist to see her where he stood now, and she looked him over; she was doing this. But she did believe that this knight would not harm her or hate her for she wanted to do to him; she was hoping he would find some pleasure in this as well.

“I am not angry with you.” She murmured, reaching curiously to touch his back; watching muscles ripple in response. “I do not do this out of spite either.”

Ser Jorah was older, but his body was strong, honed from battle and as she traced her fingers up the back of his thigh she smiled; while his forearms and face were tanned from many days of riding in the sun much of him was not. His skin was pale and fair, but he also had freckles, and Daenerys smiled, there could not be many who would know such a thing; perhaps she was the only one.

He was straining his neck trying to watch her and Daenerys ran her hand down his back until she tangled her fingers in his hair; trying to press his head down. Growing bolder she ran her fingers across his ass and dipped to look beneath him; at least there was a sure way to know if he was enjoying any aspect of this.

“Ser Jorah, do you like that?” She teased, seeing that his cock had swollen some; pressed against his belly.

His answer was a growl against the gag and she gave his ass a light smack in reward, then molded her hands over his buttocks; massaging the flesh eagerly. It aggravated him, but it also aroused him and that encouraged her; pulling his cheeks apart slightly, thinking of what she had in those drawers.

She ran her hands over his thighs and then back up, finding a rhythm and feeling him respond; his hands were her best indicator. When she lightly touched her fingers to the pucker of his ass the whole of his body tensed, clenching the bar above him, and a naughty thought raced through her mind; but she felt his response too and gave him a reprieve.

Shifting the lever to lift him upright, and Daenerys looked at his body before meeting his eyes. Laying her palm against his chest and sliding down until she wrapped him in her hand. She was in control; his pleasure was as much hers as her own; and his eyes closed as she stroked him.

His body trembled as she touched him, and he was trying to catch her eyes; trying his best to get her to give him what he wanted. But his body was stretched out, and Rasa was right; he was rather delicately trapped. Yet touching him, seeing his arousal grow had brought her pleasure, her thighs were slick and own belly had tightened; she wanted more.

Nervously Daenerys stood before him, loosening the ties of her dress to let it fall away and began to touch herself. Jorah fought the restraints as she touched herself, his cock bobbed, and she knew he was aching to slide into her; to feel the tight grip of her body around his.

“Jorah!” She murmured, she feared he would hurt himself and broke off to stop him, running her fingers, moist with her own arousal over his chest; pressing her body into his side. It did not soothe him and so she fought the knots on the gag free, smacking his back with the leather strap; twice and then a few more times to try and make him stop.

“Khaleesi please!” His words cut off by a groan, he’d tried to lean towards her, and she knew he’d felt a painful tug; saw it run through his face. “Let me touch you, I’ll do what you…”

“This is what I want tonight.” She whispered, she had brought him to the brink; she’d directed his pleasure and her own. Trying to grind her aching center against the back of his thigh, her belly tightened. “Will you come to me again? Let me test your limits and mine?”

“Yes.” He nodded, his answer more of groan than a word.

But it was what she wanted, and Daenerys took him in her hand, stroking firmly. “You should ask what I want to do to you Ser; for I do not know that I will always be as gentle as I was tonight. And there are many things I want to try.”

Tonight had made those desires even stronger, and wakened more; though she was unsure at how much she wanted to discipline him. But she stroked him until his seed spilled over his hand as he breathed her name; and then shifted the lever slowly.

She crouched to free his wrists and ankles, her own body demanding attention as she stood. Jorah rubbed at his reddened wrists, opening and closing his hands several times, Daenerys reached out to carefully shift him from the bench; it was not a task for stiffened hands.

“Khaleesi...” He began, looking at her, questions in his eyes; but she was not done, and she’d spent his seed on purpose.

“You will finish me.” She ordered, pleased to see desire enter his eyes; and that his cock stirred. “With your hands only.”

His nod was quick and then he was crowding her, walking her backwards until the cool stone was against her skin and his hand came to the center of her as her own found his shoulders. His chest rose and fell heavily, his eyes studying her, as his thumb slid through her slick center; he took his time. But he was gentle, watching her as he stroked through her folds, his other hand cupping her breast and squeezing lightly at her nipple; she struck him in warning when his head began to dip.

In answer he thrust a finger inside of her, making her gasp as he began a steady rhythm. Daenerys moaned for him, her hips pressing forward into his hand; trying to keep the pressure of his thumb on her center. It had never felt this good, her belly clenched in time with his fingers, he added a second and she leaned into his shoulder; biting down as it finally broke over her.

He rubbed gently for a little longer and then his arms came around her, holding her for a few moments. Without him Daenerys thought she might have crumbled to the floor, and she was relieved when he scooped her up; carrying her to the bed.

“Shall I go Khaleesi?” He lay her gently upon the sheets and she burrowed in eagerly.

She only nodded, watching in the firelight as he dressed and as he wrapped his sword belt around himself, she called out. “You will return to me tomorrow evening Ser; I’ll indulge my needs as often as I wish.”

“Khaleesi.” He nodded as he turned to go, and she thought she saw a hint of a smile on his face; he had no idea the things she wanted to do.


	3. Chapter 3

He felt her gaze land on him several times that morning as she listened to supplications in the throne room, Jorah tried to ensure he kept things normal and a respectable distance from her. She had been experimenting last night, testing his limits along with her own interests.

He’d realized it as she touched him, tentative and uneasy at first, she’d gained confidence as she explored and tested what she could do. She had caught him off guard at first, but, once he was safely back in his own chamber, and unable to resist replaying it in his mind; she had planned that.

And he wondered if it had been a fantasy for her or an idea she was toying with; she had wanted to control him. Jorah knew she hadn’t had much control or say in her previous experiences, it had been hard on her at first and it hadn’t been something she could deal with privately; the Dothraki were very open about sexual pleasure.

But he was curious as to what had sparked her interest and how he’d become involved; there were others, younger, and were working far harder to make their interest known. He could still close his eyes and hear the excitement in her voice as she gave him orders, to explore and then to tell him what she wanted. His cock had been stirring again as he finished her, feeling how tight and wet she was; it had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. After his wife he had learned to ignore such needs, and he didn’t like to pay for it; didn’t enjoy the idea of his woman leaving his bed for another’s.

His attention was snapped back to the throne room as the last supplicant was led out; the Khaleesi stood. They followed her out and up to the council chamber, last night she been soft and relaxed when he lay her on the bed but that was long forgotten now; her shoulders were tense, and he saw the irritation in her face.

“Have there been any new reports from the patrols?” She questioned, pacing before the table, much of the day had been filled with requests she could do little about.

Ex masters had been informed they could hire workers for their homes and businesses, signing a contract with both pay and a set term; each seemed to believe he would gain different results by wasting the Queen’s time. But one had been interesting, a man claimed that slaves were still kept in the quarries and mines just outside the city walls.

“It could be a trap; we must consider the influence of Yunkai and Astapor which have fallen back to their old ways; powerful men do not like to be shamed.” Ser Barristan cautioned, drawing their forces out of the city could be an attack ploy; the East was full of men willing to sell their swords for gold.

“Or men could be trapped below the ground still enslaved when I have decreed it will be no more.” The Khaleesi fired back, her temper showing just a little. “The Unsullied will search every mine and any man found holding slaves below the ground will be sealed there to die himself.”

Jorah saw Ser Barristan’s jaw clench, killing every master was not the answer; but he knew she struggled to see their side of it. She saw the side of the slave well, her heart hurt for them and the goodness inside her moved to right the wrongs done to them; to throw her resources to their defense. While Jorah did not agree with the trade, his own past mistakes made his stance difficult; he fully supported her liberation. But economically they needed the wealthy of the city to see the errors of their ways and live to provide some stability; to create a trade for the positions previously filled by slaves.

“Khaleesi, killing them does not change them, and you have already sent a message of justice in the men crucified… “He began, trying to find the words to guide her towards mercy.

“What would you have me do?” She cut off his negotiation for mercy.

“Teach them.” Jorah answered, meeting her eyes; he knew she wanted to help those who suffered. And in many matters, she could do little, even with an army at her back and a city under her rule there were some things she could not fix. “If former slaves and former masters continue to be alienated, continue to oppose each other the city will grind to a halt and consume its wealth to try to provide for those who no longer have a home or shelter.”

“So, I should allow one man to own another that he might be fed and clothed? I will not.” Though right now the city she ruled footed the bill for feeding and clothing all those who had been freed.

“But you must create a balance where a person can earn such things, it is the wealthy who have the coin to pay for such services, it is the industries that need laborers and understand how the economy of the city works. They must be forced to change, to pay for the labor a man gives; but brutality is not a good teacher. The masters have always known to how to use brutality, and today they fear it for the first time, the slaves know brutality and today they are free of it; but reversing the roles does not teach either party to change.” Jorah counselled gently, her motives were not wrong, her sense of justice was not wrong; but the fire she felt needed to soften just a little.

“I do not hear a suggestion.”

“Kill them and be done with it, appoint new men to the business and…” Dario decided to help, and Jorah cut him off without feeling any guilt.

“Levy a fine against a many found keeping slaves, and a prison sentence; either a set term or a conditional one with specific terms of release. Pay out the funds received to those enslaved and establish a contract between the former master and the men, and have it overseen by the crown; by your men.” Jorah countered, hoping she would listen to him; they knew how Dario dealt with command when he didn’t like the orders.

…

Ser Jorah was being very careful today; it was Dario who drew him into the argument, and she realized he was looking to the welfare of Mereen; to the stability of her city. But when she broke it, she felt both men looking to her, they both called for her justice to be meted out; but took different stances on the matter.

“First we must find the truth of the matter.” She stalled, unsure of either answer.

Daenerys sighed as the men nodded, she would wait to see if there was truth to the accusation or not and see the men responsible for it. But it was not satisfying, and her eyes skimmed over Dario, the man gave her the easy answers, he voiced the words she wanted to hear but both the experienced knights; both men from her own country cautioned mercy.

She watched Ser Barristan a moment, he had known her brother, and her father; known him for many years. She had wondered a few times if that did not influence his advice sometimes, he feared part of her was cruel or mad as her father had been, and while like any man he knew justice was necessary it challenged him to hear her speak it. Her eyes slid to the next man; Ser Jorah was from the North; what had he known of her father beyond stories?

She knew they saw how many suffered under the yoke of slavery, in Westeros it had been outlawed and yet Tyroshi slavers ventured west, Ser Jorah had met with one; but that they went spoke the truth. Why was one of the oldest trades allowed to continue when all men knew it to be cruel? Why did it take girl to stand against it?

A girl meant to be little more than a slave herself, sold for an army; to be nothing but a broodmare so her brother could go home. So, he could take Westeros and reclaim the Iron Throne, but that had changed, and it was now the throne that she would take when she crossed the Narrow Sea.

Daenerys dismissed her advisors until news of the mines returned, in the privacy of her chambers she tried to relax as Missandei took down her hair. Her friend was gentle and patient but shifted gladly to the side as Rasa joined her and helped loosen the braids.

“Were you satisfied last night Mhysa?” Rasa asked, both women shifted their hands quickly as she turned to glance at her.

“Yes, I was.” She trusted Missandei, but her friend might not agree with her interests.

“There are many things you can try; you will find what you like.” Rasa told her, continuing to comb out her braids. “You may also find ways to make it last longer, for yourself and for him; men of a certain age need some encouragement, but they can last.”

She shifted a little, she’d a few ideas playing through her mind, but she had to question whether it was right to pursue them. Daenerys intended to summon Ser Jorah to her again tonight, but there were things she intended to do differently; she wanted to him to speak and to hear him. He’d groaned and growled against the gag last night, she wanted to hear what he would say.

“He lasted.” She murmured. “The Khal was sometimes able to rise to the occasion more than once. Are there ways to…”

“Certainly, with the right encouragement; he will tell you. You may feel like you are in control, but his response has more sway than you know. A man struggles to hide his desires, his lack thereof is also very evident. But a man may not know all the things he likes, he may not think to try them.” Rasa told her softly.

Her gaze shifted to Missandei who had flushed a little, understanding their conversation but adding very little; her friend had a different sort of problem. Missandei was interested in Grey Worm and it was returned, but given he was the Commander of the Unsullied they faced a unique set of challenges.

“If it makes you happy Your Grace; you have many concerns in Mereen.” Missandei murmured, having sensed the pause in the conversation.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable Missandei.” She blushed a little herself, in the khalasar such topics had been easier to bring up; she hadn’t been as confident though.

And before her confidants left, she asked Rasa to send Ser Jorah to her, while she waited, she changed into a soft sheer slip. At his knock she called for him to enter and saw him glance over his shoulder; no one followed him in tonight.

They were alone and Daenerys watched him approach, he was older than Khal Drogo, and he was not pretty as some young men who liked to preen and prance about; Ser Jorah was handsome without caring about it.

“Khaleesi.” He greeted her, his hands were clasped behind his back and somehow that reassured her; other men might have begun to strip. Her summons was not exactly subtle, but he did not assume and waited.

And for a moment she was nervous, hovering near the screens, Jorah crossed to her, his eyes flicking to the frame as she stepped around the screen. She reached out, fumbling a little with his sword belt, when it came loose she was thankful he had grabbed it; she’d been unprepared for the weight. But Jorah calmly turned and leaned it against the wall, then continued removing his clothes.

“Does it offend you that I struck you last night?” She asked quietly, she still had mixed feelings about that.

“No, Khaleesi.” He answered quickly, his eyes roaming to her. “If you need this, I am glad to serve you in it. I do have to wonder why.”

“Because I know you.” She answered honestly.

As he stripped off his shirt, she let her gaze wander over him once again and when he folded his breeches Daenerys stepped close; nudging him into the frame. He tensed as she cupped his balls, his cock already responding but she watched his face and she seated him into the notch; holding his hips tight to the bench. She knelt to fasten his ankles as he leaned forward, wrapping his hands around the wooden bar the wrist straps were attached to.

“How many women have you been with?” There were many questions she wanted to ask him, some more serious than this; but she gave his ass a light smack when he hesitated.

“Four.” He choked and she saw his skin flush a little as she worked at the knots for his wrists; she met his eyes a moment. The knots did not look the same as Rasa’s, but Jorah was secured and that gave her a thrill; and he answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I intended this to be a short story, but now there is a plot and it's getting a little longer. Its different than anything I have written. Hopefully some of you guys like it.


	4. Chapter 4

"You said you would never betray me again." Daenerys stood squarely in front of him, she'd grabbed that comment last night and his wording bothered her. "When my guards took you, you said you would not betray me again. When have you betrayed me Ser Jorah?"

The sadness that filled his face gave her pause, but she waited, circling around to give him a light smack for making her wait. He had answered her first questions without hesitation, personal and inappropriate as they were. 

"I was sent to spy on you for Robert Baratheon." His voice was hollow, and horror snaked down her spine. "Khaleesi, I swear to you my last message was before Viserys death..."

"You sold my secrets?" She whispered; her hand itched. "My baby."

He nodded miserably and Daenerys could not stop the anger that flooded through her, striking him hard and Jorah took the blow silently. And then another as she lost control; her vision blurred with tears. His body jerked in the frame when she struck reddened skin, but he did not try to pull away, nor did he struggle to get free of it as she struck him repeatedly.

As exhaustion set in, she dropped the piece of leather and turned away from him. Escaping to the balcony, trying to breathe and wiping at the tear tracks that marred her cheeks. She hadn't been ready for that admission. 

He had been by her side since her wedding, gentle words of reassurance, solid advice and stories of Westeros. She had heard the longing in his voice when he spoke of home, but he'd made difficult days bearable, and he'd saved her life more than once. Why do that if he had only come to betray her? Why admit it?

And as she turned back, looking into the room she could see the shadows dancing in the corner she pondered that last question. Why admit that when he could have spun some story? Why had he defended her then, fought for her life and followed her through the hardships of the Red Waste?

Daenerys turned back, approaching him slowly and looking at what she had done. His back and chest were red, marked with welts and she saw pain in the set of his jaw. But he watched her, gaze guarded as she circled him; Daenerys felt guilt and fear well inside her.

She had beaten him, striking as hard as she could because he dared to tell her the truth, but he'd been bound and unable to escape her. Now she had to free him, and as much as she wanted to believe she knew his reaction she feared it. If he had not told her himself, if regret was not written across his face, she would not believe those words.

What if he were to lash out at her? It did not seem his way, but she'd been the one to tie him up; and to do this with out warning. In truth she'd begun it without his permission, for her own curiosity and pleasure. Yet he had been enjoying some of it, and then he answered with this; then another thought occurred to her.

What if he disappeared tonight and she never saw him again? A voice in the back of her mind wished for that, but far more she wanted this to have been a bad dream; to turn back the clock to the fun of the previous night. 

"Why did you save my life? Why did you stay at my side?" She asked him quietly, her voice little more than a whisper; in her mind all that had passed between them played over and over again.

"When I swore to you, I was true Khaleesi. I will protect you, fight for you and die for you. I did not come into your brother's service with honest intentions but when I knelt before you I did." His voice cracked just a little and his blue eyes begged her to believe him; emotion swirled within her. “I served you long before I swore.”

"How can I believe that now? I trusted you." His head hung low and she knew what the counsel of any of her advisers would be, but she believed his words. 

And she did not believe he was a threat to her and so knelt to work the release, in the upright position there was no way she could reach to free him. Fighting with the release she fought back tears once more. 

"Khaleesi." He murmured softly and she looked up to watch him slide his hands through the straps. "They were never fastened properly."

She swallowed hard as he eased back gingerly, shifting free of the cross piece and leaning over to unfasten his ankles. He winced as he stepped back and again as he reached for his clothes, Daenerys watched him go silently. 

But freeing himself gave her yet more questions, she had believed that he was secured to that frame, but he hadn't been, he could have freed himself at any moment. She crawled into bed thinking he made no sense to her at all, he'd told her the truth of something he had to have known would infuriate her and he'd stood her temper, he'd stayed in that frame until she had decided to free him. 

Daenerys struggled to sleep after that, his words rolling over and over in her head. He'd been sent to spy on her and yet he protected her, thwarting an assassination attempt, the blood rider's fury and the warlocks attack upon her. He'd suffered the Red Waste, starved and sun burnt and fought to free a city in her name. A man plotting betrayal did not do that, not with the determination he had. 

In the morning she rose, feeling exhausted and worn, but certain there was a line of supplicants waiting. Men and women who had been waiting their entire lives for someone to listen to them, believing no one of importance would ever care for them. Having decided to remain here, to stabilize this region as a free and just place she knew she must act to prove them wrong. 

"Are you alright Your grace?" Missandei asked softly, carefully weaving her braids together.

"Yes." She paused, knowing her guards would be waiting for her. "Is Ser Jorah waiting outside?"

She was angry with him, at what he had told her; but she would feel far worse if he disappeared. She wanted to know what messages he had passed, and what he had been promised. She wanted to see him standing there, choosing her over whatever the Baratheons had promised him if his words were true; for he'd remained in her service some time and risked her wrath each day had she learned such a thing from someone else.

"I don't think so. Grey Worm said he did not look well last night when he retired." Missandei murmured.

Daenerys nodded; she knew he would not have been feeling well either. But when he hadn't shown up by mid morning worry won over her anger and she sent Rasa to his chamber; Daenerys did not want one of her guards discovering what she had done to him.

She was not sure men who had been whipped and abused would be able to follow or serve her if they realized what she had done to him; that she desired to do such a thing to anyone. That had been her express reason in choosing Ser Jorah. Nor did the idea of scaring him appeal just now; she had enjoyed that a little the first night she tied him to the frame. 

...

He stirred, his body sore and aching in a way he hadn’t often felt, when there was a knock on the door; but didn't properly wake until he heard someone in the room. Trying to move quickly only brought him more pain and he wondered if she had sent guards to take him into custody; or throw him out of the city. Instead he found Rasa, the woman who had bound him to the frame that first night watching him. 

"The Queen worries for you." She said softly, pulling back the drape to let the sun stream in, high in the sky and giving him a start; he did not know the last time he had slept so late. "She asks that you come to her tonight."

Jorah nodded numbly, hoping his agreement would make the woman go. A part of him wished last night had only been a bad dream, but he was far to sore for that; in a way he was relieved. She knew, she knew the truth and she had reacted, if she needed to vent her anger at it again he would bear it; gladly bear it if it meant she would allow him to remain with her. Civilizations could rise and fall without a man finding someone worth serving; worth following. Daenerys Targaryen was worth following and he'd known it before she had an army or three dragons to support her claim.

Feeling guilty that he had wasted a morning in bed Jorah rose and dressed, strapping his sword to his side; he would go to her for the late morning and afternoon supplications. It would give him a chance to sense her mood ahead of this evening.

His back was stiff as he wove his way through the corridors, and he was rolling his shoulders to ease that when he rounded on her; Dario leaning over her shoulder to whisper something. Her eyes flitted over him and then away, if the other man noticed he gave no indication; but Jorah felt a fresh sense of regret for hurting her.

She said nothing to him, and he made his excuses to Ser Barristan, claiming something had made him ill; he couldn't tell the man the truth. And the queen's guard gave him a run down of the supplications they had heard this morning.

It was more of the same, but he did worry that the masters would not be satisfied with complaining for long; they would be devising their own schemes soon and that could prove a problem. The men had money and were used to having power, the notion they should pay their laborers, household and personal staff for their work offended them; the expense would cut into their profits. And the Khaleesi had required that all working contracts signed be submitted to the pyramid for records, creating a few more jobs along with tracking the households and businesses; any that failed to register would likely need to be investigated. Already two men had been jailed, believing their quarry slaves who spent the whole of their lives underground might be overlooked.

It was going to be an uphill battle but stabilizing the region as a kingdom offered her experience as well as land and resources for her future goals. The Khaleesi took the throne but, having felt the urge to join them today Dario took the spot he usually stood in, unwilling to cause a scene he took a spot three steps down; opposite Grey Worm. But it put him directly in her line of sight, and forced him to look away from her, Jorah felt her eyes on him and couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking. Had she told anyone else of his confession he knew he wouldn't be allowed to stand here; but the issue was not resolved.

The afternoon dragged on until a woman came in, nearly the last to be seen and trembling like a leaf. She broke down in tears as she told her tale, her daughter a girl of ten had been abducted from the barracks where they were sheltering. 

"It was my former master. I know it was, he had been making plans to sell her to a pleasure house before you came to our city and now, she has vanished. And my Wynya is not alone." The woman pleaded, Jorah shifted, seeing anguish roll across the Queen's face.

"My Unsullied will do all possible to find your daughter. If she is in the city, she will be returned to you and those responsible punished." The Khaleesi promised with authority, and Grey Worm slipped away; no doubt to dispatch a unit to investigate.

Once the woman left she called an end to the afternoon, he fell in step with Ser Barristan once they were in the corridor. "It is weighing upon her, more each day. There are few like her in this world, but we cannot let Mereen break her before she reaches the Seven Kingdoms."

"She is gentle, but she is also strong; she will learn to face these things." He murmured, wishing he had not thrown another stone upon her shoulders himself.

"She is young." Ser Barristan gave him a worried look before they circled the table in the council chamber.

He sat somewhat uneasily through the meeting, Dario brought up the two men they had in custody for slaving and he saw her eyes slide over to the younger man's. "They will pay for their crimes in the morning."

His eyes met the older knight's, she was reacting, looking for someone to blame; someone she could punish. She had heeded part of his recommendation on the matter and it had bought them a few days; Jorah didn't know that he could convince her to listen now.

She dismissed them and as he rose to leave with the others her order was quick. "Not you."

Nodding he stopped behind the chair he had just left and clasped his hands behind his back while she watched the others go. His eyes remained on her, perhaps she didn’t intend to wait for the evening to speak of this.

"Khaleesi, please let me explain..." Jorah began once the door swung shut.

"You will explain. And you will tell me every message you have passed, every instruction you received." Her tone remained hard, but she sat and leaned back in the chair; looking settled. "First tell me this. Why confess such a thing so freely? Why tell me you are a spy?"

"I am not a spy." Jorah ground out. "I serve you alone and I will..."

"Fight for me. Die for me, you've said, but why tell me such a thing? I could have you executed or exiled for your crimes no matter how long ago you committed them." Her gaze was fierce, and he met it. "And do not lie to me, you stood far worse after you spoke than before."

"I will not lie to you Khaleesi, it was not a matter I could find a way to address, and it was a shameful secret to keep; but you asked me directly and I answered." He murmured, he had no pretty answer for her, he could not undue what he had done.

And when she asked him of the messages, he recited each one as closely as he could recall sending it. Telling her quietly of how Magister Ilyrio had arranged for her to come into Varys service as Viserys arranged to leave his estate by marrying her to the Khal.

"You told them of my child, you had sent that message before you sent word of Viserys death. That is why they sent men to kill me; to kill my babe within me." Her face saddened as she spoke of the child she had later lost in the Dothraki sea.

"They did not succeed." He countered.

"Why didn't they have you do it?" Her gaze was sharp, the memories called up again. "Did they tell you it was to happen?"

"Not in so many words. The news from home I went looking for, I was to have a report for them; it would have been the third that I missed. I was expecting threats, but there was a pardon waiting for me instead. The only reason I would be released rather than threatened for breaking the arrangement was if they meant to kill you." He murmured quietly.

"You were pardoned." She repeated slowly, confusion melted into her features and she rose; approaching him slowly. "You were pardoned, free to return to the home you longed for, finished with a shameful task and you chose to stay with me. You would have had what you wanted and you would have been safe."

"And you would have been dead, Mereen, Astapor and Yunkai never overthrown; thousands never freed. A pardon does not wash away my crimes, it only would have made them a bitter pill for the Starks to swallow; the North does not forget." He sighed, he longed for his home, he had for years; but since meeting her those feelings had faded some. Her life for a place of wood and stone was not a trade he could make; then or now. “I did not want to leave you, I believe in you and I chose to follow you.”

"For a man whose counsel I relied upon many times you seem to have a habit of making very poor personal choices Jorah the Andal; ones that could cost you your life." She spoke slowly and he nearly smiled but dipped his head to nod instead.

His choices may have been poor, but he had made each one for a reason, and while he could not say he lived without regrets he stood by the decisions he had made. Viserys Targaryen would have made a poor king, as cruel and violent to his people as he had been to the sister he'd tormented and the girl he'd hardly considered when making the agreement had proven worth following; the hardship she suffered he did regret. And the choices he made on Bear Island, he stood by those as well. He might not have been willing to lose his head for it, and while the tales many believed of him were true there was more to those stories than most knew; but on Bear Island they knew. 

It was her voice that jerked him from those thoughts. "Do not make me repeat myself; let me see your back."

Quietly he turned, his fingers working the laces on his shirt before sliding it to his waist; he had known far worse pain; though it had always been after battle. The strap had left a different sort of ache, a wound ached along where it lay; this was a broader thing he felt as he moved. But it was tolerable and it was not pain that had kept him up last night; at least not physical pain.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left kudos, comments or is reading this story.  
Ahem...that explicit warning is very much in play.

She didn’t know what to do with him, she knew what her advisors would tell her, and she knew it was their friendship that was making her choice so difficult. But she did not want to lose him, in truth her mind and heart had been at war with each other since he told her; and what he said tonight did not help. He was open, and she was certain he had been truthful; but the fact he had done it remained.

She felt guilty when she looked at his back, the welts had bruised, and she could tell they bothered him a little; no matter what he said. That evening it was Rasa she sent for, because as conflicted as she felt about Ser Jorah Mormont, she wanted to send for him; she wanted to step away from a city of problems she could not fix to a little while where she could be in control.

In the days that passed she knew those bruises would have faded, but the memory of when striking him turned from pleasure to pain remained with her; but so, did all of their shared memories. And so, learned a little more of the uses of the tools she had access to.

Listening to the woman’s stories, knowing she had adapted some to tell her, Daenerys knew the truth of it either way; in the past those who had been bound for another’s pleasure had been slaves. She had not bound a slave, but a man she had known would not hurt her, a man she had hurt.

A difficult week passed before she sent Rasa for him after rearranging her guards, Daenerys was not sure of what she wanted but she hoped to know once she saw him. In truth she just craved the distraction, she wanted to lose herself in him for a few hours; she wanted to feel safe.

That Dario appeared first, flirting and snooping as much as he could, was frustrating but as she watched him try to seduce her, she felt more assured of her decision. Ser Jorah didn’t press, when she asked something of him, he always did it, appropriate or not, whether it was to complete a task or stand guard.

Dario pushed and pressed, trying to convince her to put him to good use; and he was not subtle about meaning she should use more than the sword he carried. And while she found him intriguing, he was young and handsome, but also cocky; so sure that no woman would resist him.

That only strengthened her resolve to do so, she could not see him submitting to her in the ways she desired; at times he barely managed to follow the orders he was given.

“Do you experiment?” He had circled the room, making a poor attempt to hide his snooping, and poked his head behind the screen.

“Some.” She saw the surprise in his face before he hid it; she tested his resolve and cut off the smart retort she knew would be coming. “But I do not submit.”

“Nor should you.” He replied, but his voice had become a little flat; no, he had enjoyed the idea of tying her up far more.

As there was a soft knock on the door, she called for Ser Jorah to step in; she saw him glance to the sell sword. Daenerys knew there was no love lost between the two men, Ser Jorah refused to trust him after what he had done to his captains and privately, she agreed; but then she had to question herself as she seemed to trust a confessed traitor.

“You may go Dario; I’ve matters to discuss with Ser Jorah.” She dismissed the first man; he hadn’t been invited in the first place; but she hoped his presence wasn’t going to make tonight more difficult.

“Your Grace.” The man dipped his head and turned for the door, Jorah stepped aside to let him pass; but did not seem eager to enter the room himself.

Once the door closed, she watched him silently, he’d come but she could tell he was hesitant. She hadn’t said anything about what had transpired between them in nearly a week; but it had never been far from her mind. Only now when she circled the man in her dreams, she knew the body, she could see his face and her imagination filled in all the things she wanted to do.

But they needed to speak, speak frankly and not when either of them was caught off guard, it was a conversation they should have had before this all began, but had they spoke of it that first night would have been different ; and that was a memory she had enjoyed privately several times. And there was another conversation that should have been separate altogether.

“Will you sit?” She asked, he had been around her as he usually was, but he’d never felt farther away the when he stood at her side and on her counsel; careful and proper in ways he never had bothered to be before. As he crossed to take a seat, she poured two glasses of wine and then joined him; choosing to sit beside him.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” He murmured as she set one in front of him and pulled her own chair closer.

“You’ve a habit of making very bad decisions Jorah.” She took a sip of her own wine, wishing he would settle; she missed hearing him call her Khaleesi. It rolled off his tongue, telling her so much more of what he was thinking than the Western title. “If you were to be banished or executed, we would not have had our last conversation; let alone this one. I miss the way we were. I rely upon your counsel; your friendship and your actions make your confession difficult to reconcile.”

“Your Grace….” He started and she cut him off.

“I’m not finished.” Daenerys stopped him, though she was choosing her words very carefully. “I choose to believe your past actions, loyalty and service prove your nature better than words sent across the Narrow Sea. You had no love for my brother, I knew that early on, but you sold my secrets as well; whether you claimed your reward or not. And Jorah there is no claiming that pardon now, you are mine.”

“I’ve no desire to Your Grace, it went into a fire a long time ago.” He replied quickly, a reflexive answer and she knew his voice, he said it as fact, and that made her smile a little, though they both knew there would be a record in King’s Landing.

“But you will have no more secrets from me, there is nothing in your past I will not know; whether you accept my next proposition or not.” Her voice brooked no argument, though she was hoping he would accept her. “I should not have questioned you on the matter of loyalty in the way I did, it was not a conversation for that situation and I should not have lost my temper when you answered me honestly, but there have been a great many things of late that seem beyond my…”

“You owe me no explanations Your Grace, my crimes were grievous, and you should have known long ago.” He excused her and she reached for his hand, he didn’t owe her that.

“It was not a conversation for that moment. In truth there are a few things considering those visits I should have done differently; but I was curious. I should have told you what I wanted before I sent men to get your and before I asked Ras to touch you. I should have asked, but I realized too late that it was your submission in it; I wanted more that than your fear.” She said the words quickly so he could not interrupt her again, she wanted to move past this; to try to build something or at least restore what they’d had.

“Your Grace, you do not have to justify yourself to me.” The title irritated her, but she squeezed his hand.

“Then my proposition.” She swallowed hard, feeling her cheeks flush a little as everything she needed to tell him and ask raced through her mind.

“Your Grace, I swore to serve you, this was not a manor I had anticipated; but I will not refuse you in anything.” His hand tightened around hers, and Daenerys nodded.

“But it will not be forced upon you. I am not naïve that many of those who are bound for another’s pleasure are slaves with no choice. You have a choice, and I cannot offer you more than this, I may never be able to.” She had to be upfront about that, her marriage would have to be an alliance eventually; but little more unless she chose it. She would do as she chose for her own pleasure and he nodded, she knew he understood her meaning. “I also should have offered you boundaries that first night, I didn’t, and I struggle to now. Not in effort to trick you, but because I am not sure of what they should be, so I leave it in your hands. If you ever need to stop, if it becomes to painful or you dislike it; say so and I will.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” He murmured; his agreement made her belly tighten in excitement; she wanted this. Only she wanted one thing to be different.

“I prefer you to call me Khaleesi, as you always have. But here you may use my name; when we are together you may call me Daenerys.” She kept one hand in his but brought the other to his cheek; there was caution in his eyes.

…

He shifted to stand as she did and her eyes told him the truth, she’d had a hard day and there were things she didn’t know yet. She wanted an escape, that was why she’d sent for him and Jorah was more than willing to oblige her; he’d be a fool not to.

The Khaleesi crossed to step behind the screen, slipping off the dress she had worn today as she went; her slip was sheer. Leaving little of her to his imagination as she turned back to him, stepping close to reach for his belt; he wrapped a hand around the belt before she slipped the knot. He lay the weapon belt to the side as her fingers began on his laces, he tried to hide his wince as her fingers found skin.

“What happened to you?” She demanded as her fingers ran over the bruises.

“Khaleesi, we have been searching for the missing children, you’ve heard the reports.” He replied quietly, they heard the reports, but they could not find where they were being taken. “I met a man who did not appreciate having his holdings searched; it yielded nothing.”

“He struck you.” She pushed the shirt from his shoulders, and he shrugged out of it, laying it to the side and taking a step back stripped off the rest of his clothes; he knew what she expected.

“He is not the first, nor will he be the last.” He dismissed it quickly though her fingers played over the edges of the bruise.

“No, I suppose not.” She murmured, circling behind him; he knew what to do and stepped forward into the frame.

As she knelt to bind his ankles Jorah eyed the strips of leather, she wrapped them about him, but the knots wouldn’t hold; it had surprised her when he freed himself the last time. Crouching awkwardly, he fixed one, showing her how to tie it and slip it, he’d never imagined he’d use a knot for something such as this; he’d learned on his father’s ships as a boy.

“Most men would refuse this, let alone help me secure them.” She murmured as he stood, she tied the other correctly and as he started to shift forward one of her hands rested on the small of his back as the other cupped his balls.

His cock stirred eagerly, she massaged him lightly before pulling him forward and he rested his hips against smooth wood; but her hand only shifted to his cock. She wanted him hard, she wasn’t going to have too much work to do, but he leaned forward to let her secure his wrists; hoping she’d stand him soon.

But once she tied his wrists, she only circled him again, Jorah wrapped the bar his wrists were tied to; his cock was pressed uncomfortably against his belly. The Khaleesi ran her palms over his thighs, and then her touch was gone; he tried to shift so he could see her.

Only a second later her fingers traced over his shoulder. “How many scars do you have?”

“I don’t know.” He answered that honestly enough, preparing himself for the questions she might ask.

“You have one here, and here.” Her fingers ran over his shoulder and then reached beneath him; she had something in her hand. And slid it around his cock, it was snug now; it was going to be tight soon. “What has been your worst injury?”

“Fighting poachers off Bear Island.” He said shortly, he’d barely been a teenager, but he knew how to use a sword and handle himself on the water; the Iron Islanders had raided them from time to time, but they were far enough North that the wildlings had been worse.

They lost warriors every year to raiders and reavers, poaching from their lands, but all survived became stronger and fiercer; men and women. And so, the reputation of Bear Island’s fighting men was built year by year and most from his home developed a healthy hatred for Ironborn and wildlings.

“What happened?” She asked, tracing her fingers along his spine and moving towards his hip.

When he didn’t answer right away, she brought the palm of her hand down on his hip and Jorah debated telling her about it; it was not a heroic story or a particularly happy one. “Wildlings ambushed some of our fishermen, took their boat and their haul; the few men they left alive were stranded on a strip of rock that sinks beneath the sea at high tide just beyond the harbor. My father sent a few men to get them before they drowned, I went with them even though I wasn’t supposed to; the wildlings were waiting. They probably thought they could get the second boat too.”

“What happened to you?” She questioned again, but her hands had stilled; she stood behind him, leaning against him. He could feel the heat of her skin through the sheer slip she wore, if he could shift a little, he would feel the seam of her legs against the back of his thigh; but that wasn’t possible.

“I was stupid, I thought it was done; one of them brought a gaff down across my back when I was tending the sails. Small wound, but it was deep.” It had been a long time ago, but one of the best lessons he’d ever had about letting his guard down before the fight was done.

And froze as her fingers found a spot beneath his shoulder blade, her thumb worked back and forth over a small stretch of skin as she leaned into him. She leaned forward, draping herself over him and he felt the soft peaks of her breasts crush against his back; his cock strained against his belly. A moment later her fingers were beneath him, running along the underside of his shaft; Jorah couldn’t hold back his groan.

She giggled a little and wrapped her hand around him, toying with the smooth wooden ring that squeezed the base of him. “You like that.”

“Please, Khaleesi.” Jorah moaned as she ran her thumb over the tip of him, he ached to be free, to touch her; to sheath himself inside her.

“You’re ready to fuck me.” She whispered, he heard the excitement in her voice and knew she wasn’t going to let him off so easy.

Jorah only nodded, hoping she was done talking of scars from the past, he’d much rather focus on her soft frame being pressed against him. Her hands roamed over his sides and his back, soft and smooth as she found his scars; then she moved away. He lifted his head, fighting the blood rush from the position he was in and watched her opening drawers.

“This was my first scar.” Her voice was soft, and she knelt in front of him, pulling her hair over her shoulders; tracing a mark in her hairline he couldn’t see. “I angered Viserys and he struck me and smashed my head into a wall, it was a small cut, but it bled badly, and he didn’t know what to do. We were in the care of loyalists who had whisked us away from the rebellion, my brother was afraid of getting in trouble and I was just little; for a time, I thought the pain Viserys caused me was the worst I would know. And then I had my wedding night.”

She brushed her hair back over her shoulders in long soft waves and as it fell her dress went with it; and he eyed creamy soft flesh. She was beautiful, slowly shifting to her knees, he wished he was free to run his hands over her; she rubbed a thumb over her own nipple. He’d take that soft peak into his mouth if he could and suckle her, stroke her until she’d crave their joining.

“Men like to fuck women, they feel its right because they become hard while we become soft and wet, when they know what they are doing it feels good for both.” She murmured, he tensed hoping he was wrong about where she was going with this. Her other hand opened, showing him a small, oddly shaped rod, his eyes were glued to her as he swallowed hard. “I know you haven’t been fucked Jorah.”

He was silent, a retort played through his mind, he hadn’t and had no great desire to be; he didn’t have those desires. But any protest he might have made died on his lips as she slid the small rod through her own folds, sitting back so he see it sliding into her. His cock ached as his ass tensed, she shifted forward and caught his jaw; pressing a kiss to his cheek as she used his shoulder to pull herself to her feet.

Her hand landed on his ass with a smack, and she kneaded the flesh with both hands; he could only assume the rod was within her. Her thumbs brushed over him, one pressed against the tight pucker and Jorah swallowed his growl, he could tell her to stop.

It might embarrass her to enjoy it but he’d rather she found a whip and flogged him, punish him for taking too long to answer her questions, ask him about things he’d not thought to tell another living soul. But this excited her, it was written all over her body and when she lay the slick sticky rod on his hip; balancing it carefully as she smeared her own lubrication him, she was tentative.

“You need to relax Jorah, let me in.” Her whisper was hushed, and he felt the tip of that thing probing; the pressure of it against him.

“Khaleesi, I’d wager you’ve not had your ass fucked either.” His muscles did not want to relax. “I haven’t had such inclinations.”

“No. But for me you'll allow it.” She murmured, one hand kept that rod pressed against him as the other slide beneath him; wrapping around his cock. “And then I’ll return the favor; only I’ll take your cock.”

Now that image was erotic, conjuring eagerly in his mind as her hand stroked him firmly. He’d no desire to bend her over a frame but tucking her knees beneath her and bending her forward on a soft bed; putting her at the perfect height for his hips. Jorah closed his eyes, focusing on that image, he’d slick himself in her belly first, and slicken that tight little hole with his fingers, use her own desire to ease his way; he’d spent enough time in military camps to hear men talk plenty of the grip of a woman’s ass.

It was enough to relax him and he let out a choked groan as she slid that damn thing into him, it was a strange feeling; unnatural and full. Yet it was accompanied by her breathless gasps, and her hands were on him, on that little rod, easing it and out and beneath massaging his cock and balls.

“Arh!” He cried out as he was suddenly changing positions, dragged upright by his wrists; the rod still inside him.

But her mouth pressed to his chest, her fingers traced the bruise and then slid low, her lips followed that trail until, as her hand stroked him again she nipped and sucked just below his belly button; he groaned aloud. After a time she lifted her mouth and he watched her eye the mark she had left; and then watched as that pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock.

Jorah lost control, his body aching for release as she sucked him, his body anchored in place for her; he could neither thrust nor withdraw. And though his balls clenched, eager to spill his seed the damn pressure at his base kept him hard. 

She was not gentle, reaching around him and pushing the rod deeper inside him, smacking his ass and swallowing him deep. He could not take it silently, his groans echoed through the room, her name, pleas for mercy and need mixed together; he needed release.

Her name was choked from him when she slid her tongue underneath his shaft, the whole of his body trembled and she looked up at him with desire bared in her eyes; then stood. And wrapped her arms around his shoulders, lifted herself onto her tip toes to toss one leg over the bench and began to grind against his cock.

“Khaleesi.” He could barely whisper her name, desperate for her to sheath him, her center was soaked, her thighs coated as she rubbed him through her folds.

“I like this, my belly is aching for your cock.” She whispered against his chest. “I feel empty and this thick cock would be perfect to fill me up.”

She was looking down at where their bodies rubbed together, she was grinding her clit against his shaft; he willed her to slide him within her. To stop torturing the both of them, but she didn’t and after a time she pulled away, moving to sit upon the floor, her thighs spread wide before him as she pleasured herself.

Jorah fought his bonds, he’d give anything to lay her back, to slide into her, hell; he’d lay on his back and let her mount and ride if she wanted. She was moaning his name when her voice broke and her body tensed, his cock ached painfully as relief washed over her; and she sat watching him in the afterglow.

Finally, she returned to him and pulled the release, his body folding in half he let out a choked cry; but she slipped the binds on his wrist and pulled the rod from his ass. Jorah was already trying to reach the bonds on his ankles when she freed him.

“I won’t take that cock ring off until you’ve finished me again. If I am to have any man, he will remain hard as long as I’ve a need of him, as long as I desire him. Your age will not be your excuse to finish, nor to fail to rise; we’ve just proven you can do both with little help.” She told him firmly, she had his cock in her hand, when she let him go, she simply turned to lean over the frame he’d been bound to. “You don’t get to play tonight, finish me and then yourself; I’ll give you your reward another night.”

He fell upon her with a groan, need coursing through him as he took hold of her hips, his cock probing slowly at first. And then he sank into her tight little body and cursed the ring that kept him from sliding all the way home. In consolation he held her sweet little ass against his pelvis and rolled his hips before pulling back to do it again; and again. He spent her and then nearly collapsed to the floor as he withdrew to spill his seed on her thighs.


	6. Chapter 6

"Stay." She whispered, satisfied and relaxed as he scooped her up, laying her gently on the bed; he looked just as spent. 

"If I stay, I'll fall asleep Khaleesi." But he did stretch out beside her for a moment and she rolled eagerly towards him, tucking her body into his frame.

She traced her fingers over his chest and down to where she had left a small mark on him; it would fade in a day or so.

He only lay beside her a few more moments and then rose, the hour was late but not inappropriately so; she knew he would care of it for her reputation. Daenerys did not, she was a widow and a Queen; she was free to choose who she took into her bed. 

In truth she was free to chose who she took as her King, she had an army and three dragons; it was simply a matter of how she chose to reclaim her throne. Snuggling beneath her blankets she remembered a discussion she'd had with Ser Jorah in the Dothraki Sea; she had been reading the histories he had given to her. He had reminded of her ancestors’ conquest, of why Aegon was remembered to this day and why Westeros was known as the Seven Kingdoms; he had conquered them. Not because of birthright but he because he could, and now she wanted them, she had claim because of his conquest so many years before.

She would never know his reasons or motivations for wanting to rule such a realm; but she did have to define her own. It was not simply a title or birthright, the Seven Kingdoms were her home and Daenerys had never known them, her brother had only a handful of memories of Westeros and she'd never know how many of those were true; but Ser Jorah had grown up there and lived more years than she had been alive. There were things he was hesitant to speak of, and she was careful how much she pressed him on the matter; he didn’t like to remind her which side he'd fought on during the rebellion.

Mereen, the whole of Slavers Bay was to be her testing ground, if she was to rule the Seven Kingdoms she must learn how to make men follow her, make smallfolk and highborn obey her; to bring peace to a nation that liked to roll over others and crush them into the dirt. The great houses enjoyed doing that, turning on each other and squabbling, wasting lives and resources as millions suffered from Dorne to Last Hearth. 

There was unrest in Mereen and strange things happening in the streets, her Unsullied fought to keep the peace as she tried to build a new way. Several of the nobles had acquiesced and hired back their workforce for pay, contracts signed and pay provided it was progress and stability for a few. The pleasure houses had taken less issue with the new laws, for freeing their workers had ground their income to a halt; they'd simply raised their prices and resumed serving the steady flow of clients. 

But almost everyday another man or woman was arrested, there had been a long argument about collars being a part of work uniform as some who hired back their workers had believed it a formality to reclaim their slaves; they had been educated and fined for it. Others still had a few slaves hidden away, galley slaves on ships that they tried to keep at anchor or secluded away in their estates and some had been found in terrible condition.

Acting on the advice of her advisers she had sent out a decree to be read in all three cities, listing the punishments and fines for all crimes committed in her realm; from murder, to theft with various slaving crimes listed first. All crimes concerning the ownership or abuse of another person had a fine attached, half for the victim and half to be contributed to the support of those displaced by the revolution. And with each arrest a little less money was required to flow from her wealth to provide; businesses that could not be managed honestly became the business of the crown. Already she had tasked the two knights in her service with overseeing the architects responsible for maintenance and construction within the city, getting work crews assembled and creating jobs.

The next morning, she spent most of the counsel meeting listening to the reports on that project, Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah had already assembled a list of tasks, prioritized by need and rosters of men willing to work or learn the jobs. Through the whole of the meeting Dario played with the hilt of the knife he was so fond of and looked bored. 

And then began to pick at Ser Jorah’s report of the harbour search, she glared at both men; the knight would only ignore that for so long. As he listed other search possibilities, Dario rolled his eyes, Daenerys frowned; there was a great deal of work to be done in the region that might be boring and mundane but necessary.

"At least he is doing something. Dario, you will take the Second Sons to Astapor and Yunkai and return with both the leaders of the revolt and a counsel, allow each city to choose their representatives. Deliver them to me and organize your men to hold the cities, we need to expand these plans to encompass the whole of the region if we are to see real change."

"Wouldn't Barristan or Jorah be better suited for that aspect of the task? They are already examining..."

"With the counsel they will. The Second sons will ensure the counsel has safe passage and that my decrees are upheld; I know you prefer fighting to politics." And it would get him out of her hair for a bit, she had found him lurking in the stairs outside her chamber this morning and overheard a comment he made to Jorah as they assembled for the meeting.

Dario could be useful, but he could also become a problem if he wasn't watched. If he was out of the city and he was busy she would be able to breathe a little easier; she was regretting having baited him last night. The Unsullied could hold Mereen and they would get to the bottom of what was happening in this city; but they needed to look at the bigger picture.

It was late that evening before Ser Jorah appeared at her door, Rasa had gone earlier and reported back that he was still out in the city. She was a little disappointed, but it had given her time to consider what she wanted to do with him tonight. Daenerys enjoyed teasing and questioning him, but she had to walk a fine line.

She didn’t mind embarrassing him a little, he had squirmed a little when she questioned him on the women he had been with and his sexual experiences. Please to learn a little more about his own interests and experiences. He’d been with his two wives and a girl from his homeland, she suspected they had shared their first times and she was oddly touched that he’d counted her as his last. Jorah had little interest in whores, and she’d read between he lines when he spoke of Lynesse; he’d had focused on other things after his wife left him.

But he came to her eagerly enough, and he let her play, tease and taunt him as she explored her own desires. She knew she pushed his limits, especially the last time, he had let her penetrate him, but she’d been cautious to ensure he found his own pleasure; and promised him more.

In truth she had some of her own reservations about letting him have her ass, she feared the pain of it and yet she was curious. He’d have his reward tonight, but she needed him to be in control as he did it; she was trusting he would be gentle. In consolation she had decided to play with him tonight.

She liked that though he knew why she’d sent for him he stepped into the room and greeted her, making no move to undress or reach for her. His hands were clasped behind his back as he waited for her instructions. Daenerys turned from the basin of hot water she’d had Missandei leave, eying the scruff he wore so well. She rarely saw him cleanshaven, today she would; though Daenerys had never shaved a man before.

“Come here.” She murmured; he’d been easing towards the screens but that was not where they would be tonight.

She removed his sword belt and helped him strip down until she could push him back to pull of his boots and breeches. His hands moved to her cheek as she knelt resting on his knees, she leaned into his palm for a moment.

“How are you Khaleesi?” He asked quietly, blue eyes seeing more than she wanted; she hoped he saw how much she was coming to enjoy their evenings. This was her escape.

But she didn’t answer, instead she rose and turned to the bench, dragging it closer before slipping the ties on her dress and letting it fall away; she wore nothing beneath it. And felt his eyes running over her as she lay the dress over the bench and picked up the leather strap that lay next to the towel.

“Put your hands behind your back.” She murmured, leaning around him to tie his wrists together; he didn’t get to touch her freely just yet.

But she touched him, running her hands over his chest, feeling the coarseness of the short hair there and then down to his belly; wrapping her hand around him. His body had already begun to respond to hers and he stiffened quickly. Daenerys rose and reached for the cloth, settling into his lap; he flinched slightly as she rubbed his cheek with it.

“Is it too hot?” She asked, she’d let it cool for a bit; but her tolerance for heat was higher than most.

“It is hot, but its fine.” He answered quickly, and she dipped the cloth again and rubbed it over his cheek and neck before rubbing soap onto the cloth and repeating it again.

Daenerys eased closer, trapping his cock between their bodies and grinding slightly to feel him react before reaching for the straight razor. He sat a little straighter and she eyed him a moment. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes Khaleesi.” He answered quickly.

And she smiled, he was a little nervous, but he was a little nervous; so was she. She had never shaved a man before and she knew a straight razor could do some harm. “I don’t want whisker burn Jorah; it would make sitting through supplications even more difficult.”

His eyes closed at her words as she ran the razor down his jaw, he knew what she was promising, and he clearly liked the idea. She was looking forward to it too and taking hold of his chin stroked the razor cleanly up his throat.

It wasn’t perfect, but as she rubbed the balm into his skin after she liked how smooth his face was. She liked the balm and rubbed it down his throat and then over his shoulders; pressing against his chest. Jorah was squirming now that she had put down the razor, he bucked up into her as she touched him.

“Do you like the idea of fucking my ass?” She lay her palm on his chest, watching him; she wanted to figure out his preferences.

“Yes.” He murmured quietly. She rewarded him quickly, nipping at his jaw as she stroked his cock; sheathing him within her. His eyes closed as she slid her thighs wide, enjoying the feel of him deep and thick within her; the idea of what they would do had already made her wet. 

“Do you want to tie me up?” She asked, still watching his face, he squirmed, and Daenerys rolled her hips. “Jorah, do you want to tie me up?”

“No, Daenerys if this is what you need, I will be here. But I, I don’t need it.” He admitted, his eyes rose to hers a little uneasily. “I’d be happy with you, if that was what you wanted. If it turns you on to tie me up, then…”

“Its not about tying you up.” She struggled to explain it and brought her hands up to cup his face. “I like being in control of this, of having some sort of control in my life. I can hold a city; I can rule it but that doesn’t stop everything that happens in it. I get to choose how you find pleasure, how I find pleasure. It feels good to be able to...”

“You do not have to justify yourself.” He promised, she felt his shoulders shifting; he was trying to move.

Wrapping her arms around him she shifted, rolling her hips and watching him react. “Good. Because I want you to kneel.”

She lifted herself off his lap and stood, he shifted uneasily and then knelt before the bed. A thrill ran up her spine as he looked up at her, and as she stepped closer; her fingers slid into his hair and silently she gave him permission to start.

His head dipped, nuzzling between her thighs, Daenerys shifted her legs wider as his tongue darted out, swiping across her lips, then he leaned forward and his tasted the center of her. Dragged his tongue through her folds and made her gasp, she slid a leg over his shoulder to keep herself upright as he found what made her tremble.

His tongue speared into her, his nose rubbing against her center and she groaned as he eased back slightly; only to lap at her. Then his tongue darted back and touched lightly to the pucker of her ass.

“Jorah.” She warned, her fingers tightening against his scalp and tugging lightly; he only did it again. His tongue pressed firmly the next time and she savored the naughty thrill that ran through her and he was shifting beneath her and Daenerys flexed her foot against his back; she wanted more. “Stand.”

She shifted back, eagerly dropping onto the edge of the bed, running her fingers along his back as he faltered slightly. But she freed his wrists and as he turned, flexing his hands a bit, she lay back and started to scoot towards the middle of the bed.

“Khaleesi.” He caught her knee, blue eyes dark with desire and his cock jutting up proudly; but he held her steady. “Do you want this?”

“Yes.” She whispered, excitement and fear swirling in her belly as she eyed him, the idea made her core slicken, but he was big; she distracted herself by giving him an order. “Talk to me.”

“Spread your thighs.” He instructed quietly, running his palm up one and hitching her back to the edge before circling around and rubbing the back of her thigh. He held her there, his other hand tracing through her folds, rubbing lightly at her clit; she squirmed.

“I want more.” She pleaded, unable to keep herself still as he touched her; his focus on where his fingers were driving her mad.

“You’re tight here Khaleesi.” He slid two fingers deep and then pressed his thumb to her ass. “I need you soaked if I’m ever going to get in your ass.”

Her belly clenched in anticipation, hole as he stroked his fingers in and out, his thumb worked her arousal back, rubbing it over that hole. After a time, he glanced up to her face and then slid his cock into her; she moaned in response.

…

He stroked her clit and she gasped as her body crashed over an edge, but as he felt her sweet body clenching around him, he withdrew. His cock ached, longing to plunge back in, yet her tight little sheath would bring him to release quickly. And he wanted to fulfill her fantasy, she would be impossibly tight around his cock; but Jorah had no intention of hurting her.

“Roll over.” He murmured, turning her carefully and tucking her knees underneath her until that pretty little bottom was poking up at him.

Much as she had done to him a few nights before Jorah worked her bottom in his hands; carefully pulling the firm flesh apart; his fingertips easing closer to the star there. He ran his fingers through her folds and used the moisture to coat his first finger before firmly pressing the tip firmly to the flesh just behind her entrance and began to massage his way back towards her ass.

She was just a little too still, so he used the other hand to stroke her clit as he worked the tip into her ass; feeling her tense. Jorah eased back and then pressed forward again, carefully repeating the action until he slid into the knuckle.

“That feels good.” She whispered, her voice just a little breathy.

“You’ll like my cock even better. This tight little ass is going to stretch for me.” She got off on him talking, and he wanted to keep her aroused lest this become painful for her.

Her response was only a moan as he sank that finger in again, pulling down as he withdrew; that little hole gaped just a bit, so he added a second. She mewled and he took it slow, trying to ignore the ache in his cock.

Once she began to move in time with his fingers he withdrew and wrapped his hand around his cock, still sticky with her arousal; pressing the blunt head to that little hole. He watched her hands clench the sheets and the way that hole stretched to take the head of his cock; there was no image more erotic he could think of. He warred with his body as he eased his shaft into her until his hips were pressed against her.

“More, I’m so full.” She whispered as he withdrew, and he lay a hand flat on her back; slowly stroking her.

“You’re perfect.” He began to rock his hips, moving cautiously as her body gripped his cock exquisitely; he was not going to last.

He withdrew and slid the fat head of his cock back in smoothly, taking her eager groan as a sign she was ready; Jorah began to fuck her. She thrust her hips back into him and mewled like a kitten, he felt her sweet little body gripping him, quivering with her own arousal and held her against him as his release washed over him.

It took a moment for him to get it together and then carefully withdrew, the Khaleesi only eased forward and snuggled into the bed; looking entirely spent. The sight gave him a primal sense of satisfaction, and Jorah turned away, fetching a cloth and pouring water into basing before carefully and thoroughly washing her.

He should go, it was late but as he leaned over the bed to kiss her cheek; she reached out for him. “You will stay tonight.”

“It would not be appropriate Khaleesi; you’ve a…” He began, she cut him off.

“If I did not want you here, I only need shout.” She said firmly, burrowing her way between the sheets before looking up at him with a face framed by tousled hair and sleepy eyes; he’d no skill at denying her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm playing with Jorah's backstory again, I struggle to believe money was the only motivation for him; given all he endured and lost serving Daenerys.   
Thank you to everyone who is reading this story, and who has left kudos or comments. I appreciate it.

Over the next several weeks they fell into a comfortable rhythm, she told him when she wanted him and on those nights, he stayed with her. His concern diminished as while she enjoyed their activities, Jorah found nothing more satisfying then her curling into his side to sleep. It was like sleeping with hot bricks tucked against him, they used to put bricks heated by the fire at the foot of the bed back home when the winter nights got cold, but her blood ran hot and he did wonder if she wasn’t snuggling into him to cool her skin.

And he began to get a sense of her needs, she liked to experiment but kept coming back to a few things; her favourite being to tie him to the frame and ask him questions. She liked to talk, she wanted him to say more and he did try, but sometimes his silence gave her opportunities to vent; and exercise her control. She did not lose her temper again, often peppering him with questions and tonight she had begun with questions of his past. But before they began, she offered him an out; and then a command.

"And Ser Jorah, the matters of your past, any which you share will stay between us." She traced her fingers along his cheek; pleased that he was here. She wanted to get the business side of things out of the way, trying to respect his boundaries; because she wanted to play with him. "But if any ever approach you, you will tell them your loyalty is for sale..."

"Khaleesi." He started, already shifting, his voice full of protest.

"Your loyalty will be for sale, either for safe passage home or the restoration of your lands; whatever story occurs to you. You will tell me and me alone. I want to rule justly Jorah, but to do so I must know who plays in the shadows and deceives me. You tell me of the games of my future high lords, and as far as any beyond us know you remain a traitor; someone may be fool enough to use that one day."

Only she chose to go further into his past, back to his home and as he held her that night his mind ran back to those memories. Some were warm, that of home and family; of people who were proud of their small home and the hard way of life they claimed. But others were not, and a part of his own downfall, a series of events he would never forget.

And though he fully supported her cause, her belief in absolute freedom his only regret is that his actions it might undermine her decrees in some way. He would not apologize for what he did, no more than he denied that he had done it; it might not have been right but no one had wanted to do anything of it.

…

“Tell me what you like.” She teased him, she found she enjoyed having his wrists bound behind his back. Today she’d sat him on the bed and mounted him, riding at her own pace; trying to keep him off balance; he seemed to enjoy the temptation of it.

“Khaleesi.” He groaned, trying to lift himself; he wanted her to move.

“Impatient.” She teased him, shifting to cup her own breast; pinching the nipple. “What do you like?”

“Holding you.” He sighed, but his eyes were on her; watching what she was doing to herself. “I want to feel how slick you get, how tight.”

She lifted clear of him and climbed into the middle of the bed; Jorah shifted; trying to follow. “Just watch.”  
Spreading her thighs wide she trailed her fingers down her belly, and the between her thighs; sighing softly as she made contact. She made him watch as she slid her fingers into her belly, wanting more pressure.

“Khaleesi, please…” He groaned, his cock straining towards his belly.

When she nodded, he rolled awkwardly, pushing himself back so she could reach his wrists and slip the tie. As she did Jorah rolled easily towards her, shifting above her quickly; one hand sliding under her to support his weight as the other came to her jaw.

“I like touching you.” He whispered a moment before his mouth pressed firmly to hers, the kiss was deep and possessive as that hand slid down her throat, and down to cup her breast. “But you are in control. Tell me what you like.”

“Fuck me Jorah.” She slid her hands into his hair, pushing his head down; wanting his mouth on her breast. And he did.

After, Daenerys snuggled into his chest to sleep, she found it comfortable to have him in her bed and the nights he was here, were the nights she slept soundly. He shifted easily onto his side and slid an arm over her back; she eagerly took the invitation.

But when she tipped her face up, she found he was watching her, he looked relaxed and comfortable but for a moment she just stared into his blue eyes. She knew he took a little ribbing from the Dothraki and while her Queensguard did not speak to her she had seen him trying to chide Jorah; thankfully he was not a man easily dissuaded.

She knew what Ser Barristan worried about, he didn’t even know the full story and yet in political matters the two men could work very well together. Both experienced commanders, both believed in her abilities to rule; and wanted to see her as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

However, the matter of how she went home was her decision, and as she grew used to ruling she considered it more and more; she was Queen of Dragon’s bay and Khaleesi of the Dothraki. She would not go home begging for support, not with the stories she heard of the Westerosi nobles. Tonight, however it was something else that struck her, and in this moment that striking gaze was overriding the curses that promised she would have no children. It played through her mind until she fell asleep that night.

In the morning Jorah kissed her forehead and slipped away, leaving before her handmaids came to help her dress and fix her hair. She didn’t see him again until they gathered that morning, she intended to explore the city today; she wanted to see the progress that was being reported to her. She was learning to rule, and the balance between trusting others, and the need to see her people; for them to see her.

As they rode back along the harbor Daenerys frowned, there was a ship alongside but as she looked up to the men working the pulleys to unload it she noted something she did not like. It was in a free port and yet collared men worked aboard it. It had been several months since her decrees had been sent out, the orders clear; no slavery would be tolerated in the bay. 

"I want to board this ship." She said loudly, catching the attention of both men riding with her.

The Unsullied went ahead as Jorah swung down and held her horse while she dismounted. Two men stayed with the horses as Daenerys headed for the gangway. Jorah beside her and See Barristan in front, on deck she saw a man pale as she mounted the board and slip back; leaving two more men to greet her. 

Ser Barristan greeted them, asking their origin and ports of call; asking if they knew the laws of Mereen. Her eyes were drawn to the mast, a man was chained to it and slumped on the deck, but he was watching them; and when Jorah stepped around her the whole of his face changed.

"M'lord." The man called in a weak and frail voice. 

Ser Barristan frowned, and someone growled at the poor man. "Likes of you has no right addressing the Queen let alone insulting 'er." 

But as she felt a gentle hand on her back, she turned to see Jorah’s face, there was death in his eyes, his jaw clenched, and he strode towards the weak man. Knelt and lifted his face, ran his fingers around the collar and then he eased back, drew his sword and cleaved the chain in two. 

Jorah was silent as he leaned over and gently took hold of the man, attempting to pull him to his feet; and a moment of chaos followed. A man came through the hatch yelling, the man she had seen slip away tried to stop him but as Jorah turned both froze; the slave he had been holding up cowered and sunk back to the deck.

The next thing she knew Jorah had slid his dagger into the man who had yelled at him, a hand holding tight to the arm that had risen to strike the slave. A trickle of blood ran from the man's mouth and Jorah spoke to him in a low voice; she was close enough to hear.

"Do you remember me? Do you remember my promise?" There was hate in his voice as she had never heard it before and one of the crew motioned for the others to stand down as Jorah withdrew his blade. "I've kept it now."

The man collapsed, coughing blood and gasping for air, Jorah scooped up the slave and lifted the frail man I to his arms; everyone stepped from his path including herself. She had seen Jorah fight; she'd seen him angry but never in this way; never had he acted without sense. But his words rang in her ears, and the way that slave looked at him; she almost though they had recognized each other. As Jorah carefully lay the man over his own horse, she gave orders for the ship. 

"Seize the vessel, it will be held until the fines are paid and it is able to recrew, search it thoroughly and take anyone found in chains to the shelters." She ordered, her eyes running over the men who crewed it, they would need a number of men. "The laws are clear, and my grace period has passed. I do not allow slavery of any sort in my cities. You stopped in Astapor and my decrees are common knowledge there, you should have been stopped there but you continued on and so we are here. All merchant vessels must be crewed by free men in Dragon’s Bay; others are managing to comply."

The protests were silenced as the Unsullied moved forward to take control of the ship; she turned towards the horses with another issue to address. Jorah's gaze was dangerous, he had started back up the gangway but stepped aside to wait for her.

Held the horse for her to mount but walked beside hos own horse, leading it with the man slumped forward, holding the saddle to stay in it. On the ride back no one spoke, but she noticed how the man looked at Jorah; and the stormy expression never left Jorah's eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Jorah scrubbed his hands over his face, he knew what the knock on the door meant; but he hesitated. His nerves were shot after all that had happened today, and he knew he was going to be required to account for his actions; but at this hour that was not what the Khaleesi was summoning him for.

He wasn't sure he had the strength for it tonight, old memories were pressing in painfully and he did not want to discuss the past. Westeros might call him a traitor, but they had not had to tell a young woman her son wasn't coming back, that he hadn't been hurt or killed fighting or working for his family but was the latest abducted by the Ironborn.

The Ironborn were cowards, always had been, striking when their men put to sea or were called up by the Starks. They stole whatever they could but had been having little success in the last years; the women of Bear Island proving to fierce for them. And had resorted to a new and more deplorable option. 

He'd been furious when he'd learned the fate of several men and boys, they'd believed lost to the sea. His father, having already taken the black, refused to believe him; claiming instead they had likely been killed by wildlings. They had long been a problem for Bear Island being how far North they were, but wildlings only killed if someone was in their way of stealing something.

Jorah did not stand by, heading down the coast he stopped at a few fishing villages; it hadn't taken long to learn the truth. It was only a new problem for Bear Island, the Ironborn had been supplementing their income by trading what they stole for gold; selling men to the Tyroshi pirates.

When two of their men did not come home one night, and the boat was reported on the far shore of the island Jorah took a small craft, blacked the sail and headed down the mainland coast. By dawn he knew what he would face, finding the tall ship at anchor off a wild section of coast; they wouldn’t want any witnesses to this. 

In the end the slavers had two men, but his came home; and that slave ship would not be circling the coast again. As far as he had heard it hadn't, but they had gone to White Harbor and a different version of the tale began to spread. He'd taken his wife and left, unwilling to give his life for a crime that had more to it than anyone else wanted to believe; on Bear Island his people knew the truth.

If he could ever get back, he was certain they would accept him, Jorah didn't particularly care of what the rest of Westeros thought. But his thoughts of going home had dimmed some since coming in Daenerys Targaryen's service; more since they grew closer.

He usually looked forward to spending the evenings with her, but tonight he was reluctant to go. She liked pushing boundaries and this was one he did not want to delve into; not like that. But Jorah also knew better than to keep her waiting, she still wavered on the acceptability of her preferences, as a rule he took no issue with them; this was simply a conversation they would need to have.

But as he approached her chamber he paused, hearing light footsteps behind him; and then her voice. She was speaking to Missandei, but her tone was sharp, and he caught her confidant’s words; they had been to see Lachlan. Something in his gut tightened as he heard the hesitance in the young woman's voice; she had seen far more of it than either of them.

"With good care he may recover, but the body sometimes fails even when the spirit is strong. They are right to keep him to broths..." Missandei broke off as she spotted him, her eyes dipping; today that bothered him. The young woman had come a long way in embracing her freedom, but there were moments when she was still submissive; she didn’t offend him by speaking the truth.

"Thank you." The Khaleesi took her friend's hand a moment. "Go, enjoy your evening; I will have all the assistance I need."

The girl nodded and slipped away as he looked into eyes full of sorrow; she led the way into her chambers. He wondered what she thought now, clearly, she had taken a personal interest in this. 

"I wasn't sure you were coming. I thought you might be at his bedside." She spoke softly as she wandered towards the balcony.

“I just needed a few moments. I needed some air.” She had come looking for him then and he was oddly touched by that.

“You’re still keeping secrets.” She whispered, circling towards him; her palm resting on his chest.

“Khaleesi…” He swallowed hard.

…

But Daenerys was not going to be dissuaded, as weak as the man was, he’d told her part of his story; a night of fishing gone wrong. Yet there was far more to that story, enough to send Jorah into exile and to make him kill a man on sight; and she knew her knight. That was not his nature.

She saw the tension run through him and reached for his hand, drawing him out onto the balcony; she was not testing him now. “Just tell me the whole of it.”

He needed boundaries, and she wanted him here tonight; in the cool night air she tucked herself into his side and listened. His voice became hollow and she realized he wasn’t looking at her, or out over the city; he’d allowed his mind to go somewhere else.

“We’d lost a few men, it happens, but it was strange. We found boats with minimal damage, there had been no storms or rough water. Bear Islanders are tough, one accident, now and then; sure. But if the boat was floating these men, even the boys had been on the waters long enough to know how to stay onboard; Lachlan too. He was the sixth in as many months.” He began as she heard the soft clink of armor and stopped Ser Barristan’s intrusion with a glare, but the man froze, and she realized he’d already been listening. Only Jorah didn’t seem to notice.

“Some of our fishermen began reporting the masts of tall ships with unusual sails; and they started to coincide with the disappearances. I wrote my father with my suspicions, he thought it was wildlings.” Jorah sighed, his hands tracing absently over her back; he was never so familiar when they were not alone; but she wasn’t entirely sure he was here with her.

“It could have been.” She soothed.

“Wildlings will kill, viciously and without thought but their primary goal is to steal; they wouldn’t leave anything behind. Not so much to avoid detection, but steel, hooks and rope; even good nets are things they like. Even if they didn’t want them, they’d take them and trade among each other; they’d certainly take the boats; some wouldn’t even leave much of the body behind. But we found all the boats, floating with goods and tools left in plain sight. The men themselves were the targets.”

“Finally, a man escaped, told me his tale; I didn’t truly believe him. But when I sailed down the coast, I learned the Ironborn had been abducting small folk from the mainland during their raids, and not just women for their salt wives. I sent a raven to Winterfell, but Stark dismissed it, the matter was not worth his time; he needed to see to his more powerful bannermen.” There was dismissal and frustration in his voice even now. “Then I lost two boys, one was only fourteen, we found their boat floating. I took a small craft and a man I trusted; headed down the coast.”

“You found them.” She murmured, her heart clenching at what he might have seen.

“I did. I don’t think the Ironborn were prepared for how quickly their Tyroshi friends would turn on them. I wasn’t giving Balon Greyjoy back his men, and I wasn’t going to keep losing mine. We overpowered the Ironborn and the slavers’ fighters, caught them off guard. The two who thought I’d fall under a Tyroshi sword became slaves; mine came home. And I ensured slave ships would not round the coast again, Bear Island would be ready, and I promised them if I saw either again, they would die.” Jorah’s voice was vicious but calmed a little as he continued. “I took their gold, I gave them the men who were harming mine, I wasn’t thinking about the consequences, wasn’t considering they would circle to White Harbor and tell a different story. I chose exile over death, but I don’t regret it. Maege hasn’t had that sort of issues, and they throw back the Ironborn who do try.”

She curled closer to him, he’d sold slaves, poachers who’d been stealing lives not goods; Daenerys thought of the first man she’d noticed. The one who skulked away when he saw Jorah, and she glanced up at him; the scruff that had begun to fill in since he’d last shaved for her. That man had recognized Jorah, but he hadn’t wanted to be seen by him; she knew why.

“You found one.” Daenerys lay her palm above his heart, thinking of the way he’d lifted the man onto his own horse, of the way that weak man spoke of his former Lord; he’d been a good leader. But she already knew that.

“Aye, by chance. The rest are likely dead by now, Lachlan was chained to the mast as punishment; I can’t see any Bear Islander making a good slave.” She was willing to bet he knew the names of every man lost to that fate. “He’s been long enough on this side of the sea, he’ll have kin at home. When he’s well I’ll book him passage across the Narrow Sea and see he has the gold to return the West.”

“No.” Daenerys whispered. “No, you won’t. We will send him to Bear Island on a ship, a ship with supplies that your family will put to good use; my thanks for sending my general to Essos.”

He was silent, blue eyes full of emotion, words he did not voice as his hand slid up into her hair. Circling her hand about Jorah’s wrist she shifted to acknowledge Ser Barristan; though the man looked like he would prefer nothing more than to disappear. That look was echoed in Jorah’s eyes; but he didn’t fight her.

“Ive the list of names your requested, White Rat and Black Snail did not…” The knight started and Daenerys only nodded; she’d given no orders to the guards as she hadn’t planned to do anything that could not be interrupted.

“Thank you, it was urgent.” She took the scroll from him and nodded; her Queensguard fled quickly. She passed the page to Jorah. “Do you know any of the other names?”

“No.” He murmured after a long moment.

“It was only a chance.” She lay the paper aside; she knew better than to allow him too much space.

Jorah nodded, she could see the old memories playing through his mind; painful ones. She could think of only one way to comfort him and so tucked herself into his arms, saying nothing she simply leaned into him and listened to the beat of his heart.

What he had done had been wrong, but it was a far cry from the crime she had imagined when he’d told her of his exile in the Dothraki Sea. He had wanted to punish the Ironborn, he had needed a tool to bargain with the slavers; and he’d just finished a battle. That they had stopped had meant it was a lesson learned, but it came at a price; she was glad he’d fled.

“I want to see that ship’s log. They didn’t come back to Bear Island, but they went to White Harbor; knew someone there to spread their story.” Jorah was still tense against her.

“Tomorrow.” She promised, knowing this was not something he would be able to leave. “Tonight, stay with me.”

“Khaleesi…” He started, a sadness in his voice; Daenerys silenced him.

Neither of them was in the mood for anything tonight, but the only comfort she could think to offer him was company. And maybe it did spell a different tone for what they shared, but late that night Daenerys lay awake; perhaps this was what she had wanted from the start. Safety, even in sleep his frame sheltered her, his arm tossed over her as if a reassurance that she was there. Jorah did not refuse her, no matter what she asked of him and he did not judge either her questions or her desires.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there are a few facts in this story that are wrong, but given we were shown that Jorah didn't learn of his father's death until Tyrion told him I wrote with the assumption that the Khaleesi's counsel might be a little uninformed.

Progress was being made in her cities, the Unsullied in Mereen, and the Second Sons in Astapor and Yunkai had established peace. Jorah and Ser Barristan had assisted her in appointing the counsels and setting them to their tasks.

The success was encouraging, and Daenerys was enjoying the reprieve that came with it; it all was beginning to feel much more manageable now. Yet she kept Jorah close, there was comfort in waking up next to him and teasing him; she knew his favorites just as well as her own.

But she watched from the doorway as the former slave tried to keep his balance to cross from the bed to the sitting area her heart tensed a little; Jorah caught him as his knees gave way. The knight easily took the man’s weight and helped him into the chair, Lachlan was healing slowly but he had a long way to go.

The man was still little more than skin and bone, but he’d moved from broths and soups to meals and it had given him some strength. He would forever bear the scars of his ordeal; the collar left a sore band of flesh about his neck where it had cut into his skin over the years, removing it had taken some flesh as well. But he’d been chained to the mast for some time and had little strength in his limbs, it was hard to look at him and relate the stories Jorah told her.

She continued to her chamber, hoping the two men would share good memories of their home today. Daenerys intended to keep the promise she had made to Jorah, when the day came, they would send his man home; but she was not sure she would be able to do the same for Jorah. At least she would not be able to send him back to Bear Island. For she had decided, she would go to Westeros as her ancestor had; but the third head of the dragon would be her babe and heir. Though Jorah had some work yet to do on that.

Alliances were for peace, Robert Baratheon had taken all peace from Westeros, and now four kings battled for the Iron Throne; the country suffered. And so, she would return to her country with an army, settle the squabbles of Lords who proclaimed themselves rulers; and teach them to value their freedom. For she had knew another way, she had climbed her way from the dust of the Dothraki Sea where she was meant to remain as a khal’s broodmare to her place as Queen. The cities of Dragon’s Bay had needed a liberator, but Westeros, whose people grew drunk and foolish upon their freedom, if they must be conquered then so be it; their own actions would yield their choice.

…

He sensed the shift in her attitude towards moving westward before she began to speak of taking Westeros with the Unsullied. And Ser Barristan eagerly began to suggest plans for invasion, eager to see the Khaleesi upon her ancestor’s throne. He had to admit the man knew what he was talking about, King’s Landing was an appealing target; the formal capitol.

However, the country was in such unrest with Stannis Baratheon, Joffrey Baratheon and Rob Stark that their internal war left them vulnerable. Jorah agreed that they should start in the southern kingdoms, the North was too vast to conquer easily; they would have to choose to submit. Or it would be a long and drawn out battle, one Jorah was privately hoping to avoid; he’d no desire to fight his own. He hoped the young Stark would yield when he saw that the Khaleesi was not her father.

He spent too much of the day with Ser Barristan, discussing the values of the Reach as compared to Casterly Rock; expecting Lannister forces to be committed to the fighting. The man had heard what he’d said to the Khaleesi, a conversation he’d meant to be private; and now condemned him a fool rather than a traitor.

Ser Barristan had caught him the next morning, demanding to know why he hadn’t forced his liege lord to hear his query when he’d proof of what was happening; proof of crimes effecting far more than his own lands. It was not an argument he wanted to have, there was no sense to it, he’d tried to get Stark’s attention, but his house was small and distant; even for the North.

If that was the man’s only query for him, Jorah would have kept his mouth shut and ignored it; but the man had seen how familiar he was with the Khaleesi. There was no way after so much time he had not heard the rumors of their relationship, even if certain aspects of it were carefully kept secret, but Ser Barristan believed he should do his duty for her cause and propriety.

Jorah had no such intentions, he cared for Daenerys Targaryen, there would come a day when he did have to step back; she was young and would find another man to marry. And he would let the intimate side of their relationship fade if she wished, but he would always be her confidant; proud to be the one she felt safe to explore her own desires with. And nothing would keep him from her campaign West.

That evening though he was pleasantly surprised to receive her invitation to dinner, as time went on, she seemed to pull him closer in many ways. They spent more time together, she asked of his past and told her of growing up in the free cities, the good and the bad.

Jorah knocked softly before he let himself in, leaving the guards at their posts so he could let her know he was here. Not surprised to find her alone, though Missandei must have been here, her hair hung loose and long down her back; a beautiful pale sheet. She came forward and kissed his cheek, before turning to the meal.

He poured them both wine as she popped a grape into her mouth with an innocent grin that made him smile; he noticed the screens that sectioned off the frame were closed, and he wondered what she had up her sleeve. She selected another and offered it to him before he could take a sip of wine, then leaned forward to take a drink from his cup.

“You look tired.” She murmured, selecting a piece of soft bread, and he took it from her adding a little bit of cheese before offering it too her. There were moments when it struck him, how sweet and innocent she still was; even if there was strength within her.

“I am fine.” He was worn, it had been a long day of debating the assets of the houses of Westeros; comparing what he remembered with what the Queensguard knew. But he wanted to enjoy this time.

“I’m tired, I think we should have an early night.” She nipped his fingertips lightly as he fed her another bite, the mischief in her eyes made his cock stir.

They shared the meal comfortably and moved to the balcony with their drinks; she nudged him onto the bench and settled herself into his lap. Below them the city sprawled, and as dusk set, they could see lamp and torch light dotting the homes and streets; out further the sunset danced over the harbor. Absently he ran his fingers through her hair, quite content to hold her.

"Would you ever marry again?" She tapped his wrist so he would put the cup to her lips.

"No." Technically he was still married, his wife had just chosen another man; but he'd no desire to go through it all again.

Still she frowned and shifted to look up at him. "I am sure there will be someone you wish to marry."

"No." Though it sounded to presumptuous to say it aloud, privately he was hoping their arrangement would last.

She was a Queen, it was her name and birth right, she would have to use her marriage as an alliance, but political matches were rarely love; he could swallow his pride if it meant he got her. The idea of sharing her made his blood boil, but she'd need a child, and there were some lords who would only have that much interest; preferring the company of whores. And if she preferred his arms, then Jorah thought he could be content, he'd no reputation to worry for.

However, he would not drag another woman into it, it was one thing to do what one must because of her title; he had no such concerns. He had no titles, nor lands to consider He'd made peace with some things, he had to lest bitterness consume him. But he did not trouble her with his thoughts.

"Don't you want children?" She asked, shifting in his lap, Jorah tried to mask his response as her soft little rear pressed into him; he should be getting used to her, only he wasn't.

"At one time." But he hid his emotions as well, a family was one of the notions he had put aside some time ago and with her he took a few more precautions; he wouldn't saddle her with his bastard. "I am content Khaleesi; I enjoy our time together. And a life of service is a hard one for a family."

"I want a child, I need one, but I want more than that I want to be a mother. I want to prove that witch has no power over me; I am meant to have a babe that mounts the world, to rebuild the Targaryen dynasty." She spoke with conviction, the dream she was working to build for herself.

"You will Daenerys." He murmured, slipping her name in, as her fingers deftly slipped the ties of his shirt; soft against his skin.

"I want a babe that looks like a Targaryen." She shifted, determination in her eyes. "There is much a child will inherit from their father, I need one who will pass on the coloring of my house."

"There are many young lords in Westeros; you will have your pick." The words were bitter in his mouth, and he did not let himself think of her lying with another. Her sweet body becoming wet and warm at another's touch, another man learning how to pleasure her; or worse ignoring her needs.

"And what will any of them offer me that I do not have? Wealth or an army? I gained both in my own way." She said sharply, her voice revealing her irritation as her fingers slid to his belt.

Her mouth pressed to his before he could respond, and Jorah set the wine glass aside as her hand wrapped around his cock; resting his palms lightly on her sides. She straddled him and he easily slipped the dress off her, complying as she pulled at his clothes.

There was little delay before he was buried between her thighs; her sheath gripping him snugly. Jorah dipped his head to suckle at her, teasing in ways he knew she liked, letting her ride. He lifted his head when she tugged at his hair and pressed his mouth to hers roughly; pulling her down onto his cock.

"Bed." She gasped, breaking their kiss.

He groaned, but arms holding her securely he levered himself up and carried her across to the bed. As he sat her on the edge, she scooted herself up into the middle and reached for him, pulling his frame up over here and arching her hips up into him impatiently.

Jorah gripped his shaft and entered her slowly, watching as she squirmed and bucked into him; this was exactly why he didn’t want a wife. He craved this, he'd enjoy her impulses and let her sort out what she liked but this, moments when she was simply with him were perfect.

Neither of them lasted long, her body trembling through release sent him over and as he eased back, intending to withdraw; her legs wrapped tightly about him. Her body took his seed, the feeling of her drawing it out; but Jorah growled to himself.

Unable to enjoy simply curling into her arms he rose and got a cloth, washing it from her as best he could, tasking himself to be more careful as she purred like a contented kitten under his touch. When he returned to the bed she simply nuzzled into his side and fell asleep. He wasn’t far behind her, but spent a few moments just holding her close.

...

She woke in the early hours of the morning, Jorah slept on his back, his shoulder her pillow for most of the night and he hadn't disturbed her though it couldn't have been comfortable. He didn't like the notion of remarrying, and that could prove a problem; she had been hoping that they worked well enough in certain areas she wouldn't need to do too much convincing.

But she knew him, more so now than most others, and he loved her, believed in her. Her hand slid under the blanket to tease him awake, she knew full well he could go a second round; he could do it with less of a break though he'd protest otherwise. She stretched out alongside him, knowing he'd shift her underneath him eagerly enough as her hand reached down to cup his balls, just enough pressure to encourage him to stiffen up; Jorah did not disappoint.

He rolled and her hands slid to his back, moaning her encouragement as he sucked lightly at her breast; the slight scruff coming in rubbing at sensitive flesh. She'd remind him to shave again soon, they could celebrate their betrothal privately another night. He leaned onto one elbow, gently tracing his fingers through her folds.

"Jorah." She moaned, urging him to join them; her body already aching.

His mouth only covered hers, the kiss hot and nearly as distracting as his thumb stroking her sensitive bud. Stubborn man was in no hurry, she liked this, feeling safe and wanted pressed against his chest; but Jorah enjoyed this, and she knew he wanted to make it last.

She arched up to help as he finally joined them and then cupped his face in her hands, tracing his jaw as his hips rolled. Any sleep that had been in his eyes was gone; warm sea blue stared back at her.

"You will marry." She told him firmly, watching confusion cloud his gaze a second before irritation showed. "If you fight me, I will make it a command; and you swore to obey me."

"Khaleesi." There was a sad desperation in his voice, and she felt a different tension in his body.

"You will not challenge my authority." She wrapped her thighs around his hips. "You believe in my right to rule and you will support my claim. I will not squander my strongest asset upon a man I will wrestle for power the rest of my reign."

Stronger than her, Jorah disentangled himself from her and climbed from the bed; she was a little surprised when he went to pour himself a drink. Daenerys padded after him, reaching out to trace her fingers along his back.

"Will these younger Westerosi lords let me explore my own desires? Will they be gentle like you when I ask if they'll fuck my ass or will it hurt?" There was fury in his eyes as he turned to her, Daenerys met his gaze and sank slowly to her knees. “

They worked, he knew that, and he wanted it; but he was going to fight her on this? She had him off step now and took the moment to slip his cock between her lips, knowing how much he liked when she did this. But Jorah cupped her face in his hands firmly, shifting her back.

“No, Khaleesi; it is only a passing fancy.” His eyes revealed the truth, he liked the idea. “You’ll marry a young lord…”

“Not an old man? You think this is a passing fancy; yet I have asked my advisers to lay out an invasion based on my forces have I not?” She made herself into dead weight when he began to pull her up; laying her hands on his thighs. “My ancestor took Westeros with a smaller force than I have, a man the kingdoms of Westeros had never heard of the Targaryens. I have an army, I have wealth; I have told you I will follow my ancestors’ path to Westeros. I will go with three dragons; you will be the second dragon head; the child we make shall be the third.”

He stared silently at her; she could practically see the ideas running through his mind; slowly she stood. Pressing her palm to his cheek, she knew exactly what some would think; but young women were wed to older men every day without any say in the matter. She chose, and she would have her way.

“Are your father’s eyes blue? Is his hair fair as yours?” She asked, watching confusion run through his eyes; her last point did not need to be questioned. He was proud to be a Northerner.

“Aye.” He murmured quietly.

“Then our babe should be as well, he will look like a Targaryen and one day he will bond to one of my dragons; for he will have the blood of Old Valyria and the North. I will take Westeros, and I will pass the Iron Throne on to our babe; you will advise me, and you will teach our son to be a man. That is what I want Jorah; that is what I desire.”

Jorah said nothing, but she took his wrist and pulled him back to her bed, he didn’t try to jerk free and she didn’t push him. He was caught off guard, but he would warm to the idea, he would indulge her whims and he would keep no secrets from her. That she would ensure, but Jorah offered her something she was not meant to know in marriage, respect and love. She would give him until dawn to think about it, then it would be announced, whether he liked it or not. He might have become used to the freedom exile had allowed him, but he was highborn; he understood duty and he was a smart man.

He would know this could be a very good thing for his house, his own exile in part because he’d not been able to make his liege lord hear him; House Mormont would rise from minor to one of the most powerful houses in the west. She would see that life there was not as hard as he’d described to her; and they would know why. Many men would offer her their hand, the alliance little more than a way to take the Iron Throne for themselves; Jorah was different. He’d told her that as much as he’d proven it, she enjoyed his stories of his home and the traditions of Bear Island; of fierce warrior women who fought for their house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is done, but I've been watching the early seasons and am considering a story starting in Season 3....   
Daenerys enters into the Game of Thrones with two Westerosi knights and the Unsullied against Joffrey and Tywin, Rob and Stannis. I have a few ideas for Joffrey being faced with the warrior who has won more single combats than any alive, whom he dismissed. Tywin being forced to wage war against a girl and three half grown dragons, perhaps Jorah faced with Rob Stark and his past. (It will be a Jorah/ Daenerys fic).


End file.
